


Of Supernovas and Dwarf Planets

by triviatooru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Iwaizumi is in denial about his feelings, Kisses, M/M, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Oikawa has an eating disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triviatooru/pseuds/triviatooru
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime has seen his best friend hit rock bottom many times. He prides himself a little too much in his ability to take care of Oikawa when his worst enemy is himself. But after the loss against Karasuno, Oikawa hasn't been himself. Don't get Iwaizumi wrong, he expected to deal with Oikawa's bruised pride and sore ego; but this was different. He no longer eats. He's quieter, almost like a fire within him has been extinguished. Iwaizumi struggles to get a grip on Oikawa's fleeting mentality as the eating disorder consumes him; while also struggling to come to terms with these feelings brewing inside of him. If only he knew Oikawa was stuggling with the same exact problems.





	1. Pluto

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! This is my first ever attempt at writing a fanfic and my first time publishing it on a social platform like this. I would like to give on more trigger warning!! Please, if you are struggling with any kind of mental illness that could be triggered by eating disorder talk/discussions/behaviors/etc., leave. Do not put yourself through the pain. Stay strong.  
> The story has acted as a source of expression for me. It created a place for me to go to talk about how I was feeling without being afraid of what others thought. I want to give a realistic depiction of what an eating disorder is like. They're different for everyone so all I can do is tell my story. And what better way to do that than put my favorite character of all time through hell along with me.   
> I'm really new at this so just be kind to me. Thank you so much!!

Oikawa’s gaze flickered up towards his glow in the dark stars plastered across the expanse of his ceiling. The familiar, dull throb in his knee a reminder of the events that have unfolded from the last few weeks. He glanced at the neon numbers displayed on his clock. They glared back a brilliant 3:48am. _ 19 hours _ , he thought to himself. As if on cue, a roar of pain enveloped Oikawa. He clutched his stomach, wringing the material of his shirt tight in his hands like it would loosen the knot in his gut. His hugged his knees to his chest, willing the pain to pass. This had become quite a regular routine now. He couldn’t pinpoint the day the thoughts had begun but here he was, eyes pinched shut in pain and shallow breaths seeping from his mouth. If only Tobio-chan could see him now. The thought made him chuckle before rolling onto his side.

In the darkness, his eyes could still make out the arm of his best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime. He could faintly make out the slope of his arm. His sharp, edgy hair now softened by the pillow nestled underneath his head. The rise and fall of his chest so, so steady and stable. His gaze lifted upwards to Iwa’s face; mouth wide open and soft snores echoing across the room.  _ Iwa-chan looks so ugly when he’s asleep _ , Oikawa thought. Well, he had tried but the word “ugly” seemed so out of place. “Ugly” then distorted into “funny” which, ironically, did not seem to fit either.  _ Cute. _ There it was. The thought was kicked to the side as soon as it entered. Hell no. Not here. Not now. He shook his head violently, hoping he could scramble the thoughts away. Oikawa breathed out a sigh, pushing the blanket off his legs and lifting his shirt. He let his fingers graze across the smooth skin and the indentations of each rib that lay just beneath. He pinched the skin and gave it a rough tug. His face screwed up into a disgruntled scowl. So much fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. He sucked in a breath as he dug his nails into the skin, leaving behind crescent moons. His fingers ghosted down to the valley of his stomach. He let out a harsh breath, willing the fat to go away. Thoughts invaded his brain. Thoughts of taking scissors to the fat. Fasting until there was nothing left. Not satisfied with his findings, Oikawa brought his hands to his legs, gripping the fat that littered his inner thighs.  _ This is why you lost the fucking match, idiot. This is what happens when you weigh 300 fucking pounds.You let Tobio-chan and his band of buffoons win.  _ Oikawa shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut. 

A deep grumble rose up from the silence, “Oi. Can you stop makin’ so much fuckin’ noise, Shittykawa?” 

Oikawa froze, looking over towards his best friend. He let out a hollow chuckle before whispering, “Sorry Iwa-chan. Just find it hard to sleep with you so far away,” He drew out the last syllables, trying to change the subject. Iwaizumi sat up and peered at him through the darkness.

“Really?” 

“Really really, Iwa-chan.”

“Jesus fuck. Fine, fine. Give me a sec.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened. Iwa was… He was really going to lay down in the same bed next to him? Before his brain could quite process the events unfolding right in front of him, the bed had dipped down as Iwaizumi slid in next to him.

He pulled the blanket over himself and Oikawa, “I’m not up here for shits and giggles. Sleep.” 

Oikawa nodded, nuzzling into his pillow and mumbling, “Night, Iwa-chan.” 

“Night, Oikawa.”

***

Iwaizumi shifted onto his side; well, he tried to at least. The sack of shit, Oikawa Tooru, was making it rather difficult to do anything really. His long limbs were sprawled all over Iwaizumi, head nestled against his shoulder. He let his eyes trail upwards to the remnants of Oikawa’s childhood on his ceiling. As kids, he and Oikawa would lay in this very bed and gaze up at those stars; dreams on the tips of their tongues and promises spoken in the spaces between their interlaced fingers.

Iwaizumi sighed before pressing his hand against Oikawa’s side to roll him off. His brows knit together at the feeling of the slim waist underneath his fingers. He could feel the ripple of muscle and bone a bit too well through the skin. He knew Oikawa was struggling with the loss still, hence why Iwaizumi had been at his side more than what he considered normal: making sure he wasn’t alone; watching those dumb alien movies, space documentaries; anything to keep Oikawa’s mind off of it. Iwaizumi may not be as psychic as Oikawa but he had years of experience with the deep, dark caverns of Oikawa’s mind and what lurked inside. So, when his hand felt no fluff underneath his skin; no resistance, only hard muscle and bone is when he felt the his stomach drop into his fucking feet. Was Oikawa not taking care of himself? Had he been this fucking oblivious to his best friend losing weight? Beside him, Oikawa had moved closer to him, cuddling into his side with hands clenching the material. Iwaizumi would never ever admit to that sack of shit that the way he clung to him in his sleep was endearing. He’d never admit that he slept the best when Oikawa’s lanky ass leg was thrown over his waist and his head sharing Iwaizumi’s pillow; his soft hair tickling the side of his face. The nights following the loss against Karasuno were a lot like that. Well, without the “best sleep” part. Oikawa would cry for hours, beating against Iwaizumi’s chest. And he would hold him tightly because as long as he wasn’t taking it out on himself then there was no need to complain. The sobs would wrack his body, silent screams echoing throughout his room. Iwaizumi had seen Oikawa at rock bottom before and he was like a tornado; winds violently blowing, threatening to destroy anything and everything in his path. He never did, of course. He only ever destroyed himself.

By the time Iwaizumi was finally able to free himself from the dungeon that is Oikawa Tooru’s wicked embrace, it was too late. The dragon was awake. 

Oikawa sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before peering up at him with his horrendous bed head, the pout prevalent in his voice, “I need my beauty rest, Iwa-chan. I was so comfortable.”

“Yeah, well, it’s 9:30am and,” Iwaizumi paused, thinking back to Oikawa’s side, “and I was wondering if you’d want to, uhh, get something to eat I guess.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened. Something wild and unhinged fluttered in those chocolate eyes before settling down into that dumb ass smug expression. 

“Iwa-chan! You never cease to amaze me! But I was actually going to go to the gym! Practice for a bit. You know, you don’t get as good as me without practice~!” 

“Or you could shut your dumbass mouth and come with. I’ll pay.”

“Mmm,” Oikawa brought his fingers to his chin, raising an eyebrow, “No,” he said with a smile. 

“Shittykawa, I swear to fucking god if you don’t get dressed in the next minute I will rip your head off and shit down your throat. Can’t play volleyball like that, can you?”

That sparked a reaction from Oikawa because he was out of bed and digging through his clothes, mumbling about how “mean Iwa-chan is” and how “he’d never get a girlfriend if he kept cursing like that”. 

***

Oikawa’s eyes lingered on his watch as the numbers displayed a rewarding 9:48am.  _ 24 hours. 24 fucking hours.  _ Butterflies swarmed in his stomach, tickling his tummy as a small smile grew on his face. He glanced at Iwa-chan, who was busying himself with his belt loops, before walking quickly to the bathroom. He crouched down with trembling hands and pulled the scale out from underneath the sink. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, millions of thoughts and threats racing through his head. If he hadn’t lost the kilogram there would be serious fucking consequences. He needed this. He needed it gone. One kilogram meant he was lighter. There would be less strain on his knee. One kilogram meant he was closer to getting back at Tobio-chan and Ushiwaka. One less kilogram meant he could think clearer, be faster, work harder. He was more himself. 

He shrugged off his pajamas and pressed a toe onto the scale, allowing it to zero out. He took a tentative step onto the scale and watched as the numbers flashed up at him. 69 kilograms. 

Oikawa’s hand flew to his mouth as he stumbled off. 2 whole kilograms. He had actually done something right for once. Tears filled his eyes as his crouched down and hugged his knees. He couldn’t believe it. He felt stronger. More capable. Could feel it surging through his veins. But the victory was short lived as his thoughts took over.  _ Imagine how you’d feel at 68 or 65. Imagine how strong you’d be. If only you had been this light during the match but there’s nothing you can do now. You let your team down. It’s over and it’s your fault because of how fat and incompetent you are. Get to 67 and then maybe you can celebrate.  _ He willed the voice to stop but it kept going; deciding that it had had enough with volleyball talk and chose a more sensitive line of conversation.  _ Maybe if you were 67 Iwa-chan would actually notice you. Maybe he wouldn’t see you as some selfish brat who needs to be taken care of. Hell, he’s out there waiting for you to take your fatass out to breakfast. He deserves a better setter than you. A better best friend. And you want more? Ha. Right.  _ Oikawa’s breath was caught in the back of his throat as he rocked back and forth. Fortunately, his hands were still over his mouth as sobs seeped from his lips. It wasn’t enough. He knew deep down that it wouldn’t have been enough but he had still hoped that it would at least be close. Oikawa lifted himself up, rubbing his eyes. He grabbed the scale, sniffling slightly as he set it back underneath the sink and set to work fixing the mess that was his hair as well as getting dressed.

A knock came from the door causing Oikawa to jump, “Oi! Are you almost done? Jesus Christ, how long does it take for you to do your goddamn hair?” 

Oikawa looked at himself in the mirror, grabbing at the fat on his neck and sighed. He closed his eyes and pinched hard. He wanted nothing more than to cut it off. Letting go, he gave himself one last look; taking in his white shirt decorated with varieties of stars and planets which was framed by his tan cardigan and outlined with his dark jeans. His jeans hung loosely on his hips, making him look ten times bigger. So much for looking cute for Iwa-chan. He turned towards the door and yanked it open, quickly putting on one of his many masked smiles. 

“Iwa-chan~! Thank you for waiting for me! Sorry it took so long. I needed to look cute for you.” 

Iwai-chan snorted, “Right,” he paused before deadpanning, “You’d look cuter with your mouth shut.”

“That was straight up hurtful, Iwa-chan,” the pout visible in his voice, “Borderline abusive if you ask me.”

“Yeah, good thing literally no one asked you. Now can we go? I’m starving,” Iwa-chan grabbed Oikawa’s hand and used his other hand to grab the keys. He tugged Oikawa out of the house and locked it up. 

“Are we going to the usual place?” Oikawa inquired.

“Don’t ask dumbass questions, Shittykawa. Yeah, we’re going to the usual place.” 

Oikawa huffed, crossing his arms and glancing up at the sky as they walked. There was a slight chill in the air that was balanced with the warmth of the sun.  _ You can’t break your fast. Not when you’re so close to your goal. To being good enough. Not yet. Get coffee. Coffee is safe.  _ Oikawa nodded to himself. The voice was right. He’d have to start over if he let himself indulge. He had come so far and he couldn’t stop yet. Iwa-chan may be a brute but he wouldn’t  _ force  _ him to eat, right? And coffee was safe. It stayed within his rules. Coffee could hold him over for a few hours. Coffee was safe. He could manage that.


	2. Neptune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi confronts Oikawa about what's been going on. Oikawa opens up a bit but the struggle begins of trying to understand one another. Neck kisses happen and more ansgt!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Trigger warning because there's a brief explanation on Oikawa's thought process behind his eating disorder. So just be careful and take care of yourself!   
> Also, I've never written a kiss scene so I am truly sorry if it is awkward or weird. I tried to make it realistic and I hope I was at least headed in the right direction!  
> Thank you so much! Enjoy!

Iwaizumi sat facing Oikawa at their table, awkwardly staring down at his meal. Oikawa had been busying himself with his coffee and rambling on and on about some joke Makki had told him yesterday. Iwaizumi couldn’t focus on the words. Not with the dread looming over his shoulder. Instead, he allowed himself a chance to look at Oikawa. His shoulders were tensed. His knuckles white from the grip he had on his coffee cup. His teeth gnawed on his bottom lip as he spoke. Iwaizumi had seen all the different masks Oikawa had but he had never seen this one. His usual sweet chocolate brown eyes were now glazed over with a tired numbness that gave no emotion or thought away. Oikawa’s face was slimmer, the baby fat that littered his cheeks now appeared to be gone. Without giving it much thought, Iwaizumi lifted his hand up and moved it to where Oikawa’s white knuckled hand was situated on his coffee mug. Oikawa snapped out of his haze and lifted his eyes to meet Iwaizumi’s, flashing a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Iwa-chan? Holding my hand? How rom—”

“What’s going on? And don’t give me some bullshit filled excuse. Talk to me. Is it about the match? Because if it is I told you that you can’t shoulder the burden by yourself. We’re a team. We win as a team and we lose as a team. We all could have given m—”

“I know,” Oikawa’s voice was distant, “I know, Iwa-chan.”

“Then what is it?” Iwaizumi’s fingers tightened on Oikawa’s, “Did something happen between you and Ushijima?”

Oikawa’s expression twisted into a disgusted sneer, “No! I-I,” he paused, his eyes trailing down to their hands, “That’s not it.”

“You’re punishing yourself though. I may be dense sometimes but I’m not fucking clueless so don’t treat me like I am. I’m your best friend, right?” 

His voice wavered, “Of course, Iwa-chan.”

“Then what’s going on?”

Oikawa looked up, tears threatening to spill down his rosey cheeks, “Can we go home?”

Iwaizumi felt himself nodding as he got up, keeping his hand on Oikawa’s as he made sure to pay for his food and Oikawa’s coffee.

As he walked home with Oikawa, their hands intertwined, he felt like he was the one thing standing between Oikawa and the edge. He glanced down at their hands, Oikawa’s gripping so tightly onto his as though it would keep him from falling apart; as though it would keep all the pieces in place. 

***

As soon as they returned to Oikawa’s house, casual clothes were replaced with sweatpants and faded t-shirts. Iwaizumi found himself lying on his side with Oikawa in his arms, his face pressed into his chest. He couldn’t tell how long they had been like this but he wasn’t necessarily complaining. Moments like this were rare; each inhale and exhale contained a soft vulnerability, like when Oikawa’s hands grip Iwaizumi’s shirt, beckoning him closer, impossibly closer. And now in this moment, that soft tug was the only thing that gave away Oikawa not being asleep.

“You gonna talk to me now?” Iwaizumi murmured into Oikawa’s soft locks.

Oikawa nuzzled closer, his hands gripping Iwaizumi’s shirt tighter, “I don’t know where to start,” he murmured. 

“Try.”

Oikawa’s eyes lifted up towards Iwaizumi’s, the softest hint of a pout lurked in those delicate features, “It’s not that easy. This,” he paused, hesitating, “this isn’t simple. It’s not black and white. This isn’t about volleyball, Iwa-chan. For once, it’s not about volleyball.”

“Does it have to do with you literally never eating?”

Oikawa’s whole body tensed up at that, soft tremors radiating underneath his skin, “How did you-”

“I’m not fucking dumb. I’ve known you for my whole life. You call me dense and I get it. I can be a fucking brickheaded idiot but don’t treat me like I’m dumb,” Iwaizumi’s voice softened, “I’m worried, Oikawa. What the hell is going on?”

“What I’m doing,” he stammered before letting the floodgates open, “there’s a reason. I have to be in control. I can’t let what happened before happen again. I have to be strong. I have to be strong for you and Makki, and-and Mattsun. I have to be good enough for you. Can’t let that happen again. Have to make room for everyone else. Have to be lighter. Quicker. Stronger. Have to keep losing…” Oikawa pressed his face further into Iwaizumi’s shirt, muffling the words. 

Iwaizumi began slow, trying his hardest to digest every word he had heard, “So, this, what you’re doing to yourself, is on purpose.”

Oikawa nodded, his shoulders now trembling softly. 

“Tooru-”

Oikawa’s voice wavered, “I know,” he paused, his voice barely above a whisper, “Just wanna sleep. Will you stay?”

Iwaizumi nodded, running his fingers through the strands of soft hair, “Yeah, I’ll stay. Sleep.”

***

Oikawa wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed since he had fallen asleep to the feeling of Iwa-chan’s fingers in his hair. Peeling his eyelids open, he looked up at Iwa-chan. He looked so soft, softer than Oikawa usually saw him. So vulnerable without the contorted facial expressions and the constant frowns. Oikawa raised his hand slowly, so not to jostle Iwa-chan awake, and traced his fingertips against Iwa’s cheek. He traced the line of his jaw. His best friend was so beautiful when he didn’t have that ugly expression on his face. Oikawa traced his finger along the space underneath his eye, smiling softly. Iwa-chan’s eyes were the softest green one could ever find. Suddenly, Iwai-chan’s hand had come up to grab Oikawa’s; those quiet green eyes gazing at him in the hushed light of his bedroom. 

“Hi, Iwa-chan.”

His voice was raspy as he spoke, “Hey. Did you sleep well?”

“I always sleep well with you,” Oikawa emphasized said point by nuzzling closer.

“Jesus christ, I just woke up and you’re already making me wish I had died in my sleep.” 

“Iwa~! Don’t be so mean. We were having a moment earlier,” Oikawa said with his usual pout. 

Oikawa let his eyes wander over to where Iwa-chan was holding his hand. Iwa-chan’s eyes followed his and all but threw his hand away from him. 

Frowning, Oikawa met his eyes, “What was that for?”

Iwa-chan, being the flake he was, began to disentangle himself from Oikawa, “Don’t know what you mean.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, quickly reaching for Iwaizumi’s shirt, “Not yet. Don’t go yet.”

Iwaizumi looked down at him before sliding back underneath the blankets, “Happy?”

Oikawa shook his head, grabbing Iwa’s arms and forcing them around his waist, “Need your big strong arms to hold me.”

“I hate you. I really and truly do hate your fucking guts.”

“Do not! Iwa-chan is just embarrassed because I’ve exposed the ooey-gooey soft side of you!” 

“Oikawa, what you were talking about earlier,” he paused, his arms tightening around him, “How long? Why didn’t you say something to me?”

_ Because I didn’t want you looking at me the same way you’re looking at me right now. That look: like I’m broken and fragile.  _ “I didn’t want to worry you.” 

Iwa-chan’s expression softened, his voice just above a whisper, “We’re best friends. I’m going to worry. You need to get that through your thick skull.”

Oikawa tucked his head into Iwa’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and leather. He stayed quiet, not knowing how to respond. There was so much he needed to say but he had no idea how to even begin. 

Iwa-chan, apparently not having any of this, poked Oikawa’s side which caused Oikawa to jerk away from with a loud yelp. 

“Iwa! I swear to go-,” before Oikawa could finish his sentence Iwaizumi had him pinned down and was tickling his sides. 

***

Throughout the years of his life, Iwazuimi found himself in this position more times than he would care to admit: Oikawa being pinned to the bed and Iwaizumi above him, tickling the shit out of him. Oikawa may have height on him, but over his dead body was he going to let that lanky piece of shit have his way. 

Oikawa’s real laugh was ugly. Horrid, really. It was so goddamn obnoxious. But it was real. It was his real, unadulterated laugh. It made his ears ring and his head light; but he couldn’t get enough of it.

He kept working his fingers along Oikawa’s sides, listening to his pleas and screams. He rested his head on Oikawa’s shoulder, laughing at his misery. 

“Iwa-chan! Stop! I’m gonna pee!” Oikawa tried to wiggle out from underneath him but he straddled his hips, grabbing both of Oikawa’s hands and pinning them above his head. He used one hand to hold his hands in place while using the other to continue the tickling. At this point, Oikawa was scream-laughing. Smiling to himself, Iwaizumi nuzzled his head into Oikawa’s neck. And before he realized what he was doing, he let his lips ghost along the soft skin. Oikawa’s citrusy scent filled his nose before pulling away to see those chocolate wide-eyed chocolate orbs staring right back at him. 

“Y-You-”

“Shut up. I didn’t do anything.”

“Iwa-chan kiss-”

“Oikawa, I swear to god, shut the fuck up. It was on acci-”

Oikawa’s voice came out as a soft whisper, “Do it on purpose then.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping, “Excuse me?”

There was a challenge in his eyes. The same fire Iwaizumi saw when they stepped on the court, “Do it on purpose, Hajime.” 

Iwaizumi gulped. Oikawa had always been full of tricks and treats. He wasn’t sure which one this was. Yeah, they’re best friends. But best friends don’t exactly kiss one another’s necks and then demand more. He stared into Oikawa’s eyes, trying to see if there as an answer hidden in them. 

“Iwa-chan, do it.”

“I-,” Iwaizumi stuttered, “Where at?”

“The same place.”

Oikawa is so weird that he doesn’t know why he expects anything different. So, really, it made sense because Oikawa is always so weird which means that this, kissing Oikawa, it’s not so bad. 

Iwaizumi slowly lowered his head back down to Oikawa’s neck, closing his eyes. He felt Oikawa’s neck stretched and his body arch up towards him slightly. He brought his lips down softly against the skin, pressing a kiss to it. He heard Oikawa let out a soft gasp, which was all the encouragement he needed to press one kiss after another until each peck melded into one. He listened very carefully to Oikawa’s gasps, felt for each push and pull to make sure his best friend was okay. Oikawa’s hands had taken root in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer.

Iwaizumi grazed his tongue ever so slightly against the skin, receiving a hushed whimper. The growing warmth in the pit of his stomach enveloped him, spreading to his chest and his legs. If Oikawa’s laughs were heavenly then his moans were downright sinful. And here he was, turning his best friend into a moaning, whimpering mess. The coil in his stomach wound tighter with every pull and tug.

He felt Oikawa push on his shoulder and the sight he saw when he pulled away was otherworldly. There he was: all glazed over eyes and bitten-red lips. Those chocolate eyes peered up at him, daring him to keep going. But those chocolate eyes belonged to his best friend. Iwaizumi’s brain was screaming at him.  _ Get off of him. Kiss him. He’s your fucking best friend. Kiss him. He _ ’s _ fucking straight, Iwaizumi. Kiss him. _ The voices all seemed to fade out until the only thing he could hear was the thumping of his heart against his ribs. He was vaguely aware of Oikawa’s fingers pressing bruises into his shoulders. He needed to leave. He could  feel the bile rising in his throat and he needed to get the fuck out. 

Oikawa’s mouth had begun to shape into words when Iwaizumi launched himself off of him. His chest was trying so desperately to get air back into his lungs.

“I have to go,” his voice sounded raspy and foreign to his own ears. His body was thrumming with a boiling warmth and a sharp chill. 

Oikawa bolted up and crawled to the edge of his bed, “No, no, no, no,” his voice broke with each repeated word. “You said you wouldn’t leave me! Please, we don’t even have to talk about it. I didn’t mind it, I swear! Please, Iwa-chan. You said you would stay.”

On any other day, any other scenario, Iwaizumi would have bended to Oikawa’s will; but something about the tears making trails down his cheeks just fueled the burn in his chest. “Oikawa, I need fucking space. I’ve been up your ass since our last match. I’ve all but wiped your ass for you. Please let me have some fucking space!”

Hurt flashed across Oikawa’s face before it contorted into that familiar disgusted stare. “Fine. Leave. I don’t fucking need you anyways. You and your constant nagging were taking up too much space anyways.” Just like Oikawa. Always has to have the last cruel and hurtful word.

Iwaizumi grabbed his duffel bag and slipped on his shoes. Keeping his chin high while avoiding eye contact, he walked out of Oikawa’s house. Had he meant to hurt Oikawa? No, he never meant to but the only way he would get out of there was if his feelings were scuffed. 

He walked the few blocks that separated him and Oikawa until he was finally home. He barely made it to his bed before he collapsed. He reached for that stuffed dinosaur Oikawa had gotten him a few years back. God, why was some shit-faced boy all he could think about? Did he really spend so much time with Oikawa that all he could think about when he was alone was that boy?

He pressed his face into the stuffed animal and squeezed his eyes shut. Even when Oikawa wasn’t glued to his hip he still lingered in his head. And after a furious attempt at getting away from him, Iwaizumi was finally alone; but all he wanted was to be back in Oikawa’s bed and underneath his glow-in-the-dark stars. He missed his stupid voice. His loud laugh. His lanky legs that take up too much room. He missed this too perfect hair. Each thought came one after another until there were tears streaking down his cheeks. One tear for every thing Iwaizumi missed. And the tears didn’t stop until sleep came like a gentle blanket of mercy.


End file.
